


"You don't have a brother."

by Routcliffe



Series: Mulige Verdener [1]
Category: Ylvis
Genre: Gen, g-rated, just don't be eating Nugatti, really just don't be eating anything, young ylvis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 19:12:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6207070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Routcliffe/pseuds/Routcliffe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the moment in "Tonight With Ylvis" when Magnus says he's never touched another man's nether regions before, and Bård and Vegard say, nearly in unison, "You don't have a brother."</p>
            </blockquote>





	"You don't have a brother."

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know why I did this. It's crunch time at school and I have a hard deadline tomorrow, and instead I sat down and wrote this. It is not edited. It is not the genre in which I prefer to work. It made my gorge rise as I was typing. And yet here it is.
> 
> (Update: edited to fix the title to reflect the actual quote.)

"Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

"Yes, Bård?"

"Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

"I'm in the garden, Bård."

"Mama?"

"Right here, Bård."

He kept to the back porch, hopping from foot to foot. "Bjarte filled his diaper," he sang out. 

Amid the tomatoes in their cages, Helga's shoulders sagged for a second, and she let out a heavy sigh.

"Mama?"

"I'll be--" 

About twelve years later, Bård would flash back on this day, and suddenly understand the calculus that went on during that uncomfortable ten seconds or so: she was up to her elbows in dirt right now, and her slacks and shoes were muddy. It was bad enough to have to make a baby wait, smelly and uncomfortable, while she changed and washed, but Bjarte was ambulatory now, and the potential for destruction was enormous. 

Now, though, he felt only curiosity as he watched her shoulders straighten. "Vegard's a big boy now," she said.

"I'm a big boy too!"

"Then you help him. Change Bjarte's diaper."

"Do we hafta?"

"Yes," she said. "I trust you, Bård."

"Okay," Bård said dubiously, and ran back in.

The inside of house was downright chilly out of the sun. Sometimes Bård still missed Mozambique's heat. He ran back to the living room where Vegard, nose wrinkled in disgust, was trying to keep Bjarte, now fussy, from running off or sitting down. He was singing a lullaby, which usually worked, but Bjarte didn't like being restrained. Vegard's voice was thin with desperation. "Is she coming?"

"She says _you_ gotta do it."

The look of horror on his older brother's face was kind of fun. Even Bjarte seemed to think so. "Okay," Vegard said, lifting Bjarte by the shoulders. The baby kicked, and Vegard flinched backward. "Okay. I can do this." Holding the baby as far away from him as possible, his face fixed in a grimace, he ran with tiny steps to the baby's room. Then he stood there, looking stricken. 

Now that the airplane ride was over, Bjarte's face crumpled again, and of course the stench was starting to billow. Vegard's Adam's apple began to bob, and his lips were trembling, and Bård knew that it was only a matter of time before his sensitive big brother started to retch. 

Bård scrambled down on his knees, grabbing the changing pad from the shelf, and unrolled it so that Vegard could put Bjarte down. Then he pulled open the container of wet wipes and slopped a stack of them next to the changing pad. 

Vegard took huge, gulping breaths as he unstuck Bjarte's diaper. Features twisted with revulsion, he made a mewling noise deep in his throat, and for a second Bård hovered, fresh diaper in hand, ready to spell him if he had to run away and blow chunks. But Vegard only squeezed his eyes nearly shut and buried his mouth and nose in his upper arm for a few seconds. Then he lifted Bjarte's legs and gathered up the dirty diaper. Bård wrinkled his nose as he reached out to take it. "Don't let it open," Vegard said in a strangled voice. "Stuff will fall out."

Bård looked at the diaper pinched between Vegard's thumb and forefinger, and then looked at the wipes that Vegard had taken in his other hand to clean Bjarte, and changed his mind. "Don't go away," Vegard squawked as Bård ran through the house and down the stairs to get a couple of the heavy-duty yardwork garbage bags. He came up holding one open. Vegard sighed. "Good idea." He dropped in the dirty diaper, and some of the wipes, and then he yelped and ducked as a tiny arc of droplets narrowly missed his face. 

Bjarte cackled at the chaos he was causing. Bård used a forearm to stifle his own scream of laughter, but Vegard glared nonetheless, and Bård took pity on him and strategically positioned a tented wipe, confining the dampening to Bjarte's spirits. He pointed at Bård and made noises. "He's swearing at you in baby," Vegard observed with a watery smile. 

He used nearly the whole stack of wipes, appeared to consider, and then used the rest in a final sweep that made sure Bjarte was clean from knees to chest before he tossed them in the yardwork bag. Breathing easier, he lifted Bjarte's legs again, positioning the diaper. He unfolded the tabs on one side, Bård unfolded the other side, and together they did up the fastenings. 

Across the baby, they grinned at each other. "We did it," Vegard said triumphantly. He stood Bjarte up, surveyed the back of the diaper, and chewed his lip. "I hope it's not too tight."

Bård glanced at the front. "Is…that supposed to be on the outside?"

Vegard said a word that he was definitely not allowed to say, and then Bjarte had to go back down and when they pulled the diaper off they tore the plastic and had to use a fresh one. This time they covered everything that needed covering. 

While Vegard ducked into the bathroom and scrubbed his hands all the way up to his elbows, Bård made sure that everything was in the garbage bag, put it in the second garbage bag, and shoved it to the very bottom of the kitchen bin. He checked on Bjarte--playing with the xylophone--and washed his own hands. 

Vegard emerged a few minutes later, wearing a fresh t-shirt. Looking pasty and haggard, he curled up on the couch, reading a book about the Ryan FR Fireball. So Bård would have to watch Bjarte, but that was okay, he reflected. Vegard had been a trooper. 

"Hey," Bård said softly, and when he got no response, poked his brother's head. "Hey."

Vegard glanced up and smiled. His voice was ragged. "Thanks. We make a pretty good team, don't we?"

"We do," Bård agreed. With a wicked grin, he placed his clean, wet hand on the side of Vegard's face, and he and Bjarte giggled as their big brother's screams echoed through the house.


End file.
